Destiny
by fairytalemanipulator
Summary: Oneshot. The wonders of death and fate, life and revenge. Bad summary, sorry. PostShadow angst, R&R please!


**Disclaimer: Supernatural does not belong to me.**

**Spoilers: A little bit of 'Faith'; this is post-Shadow, so the boys deal with a few of those messy issues.**

**Summary: "I thought we were gonna die, Dean,"**

**A/N: This came to me on a dreary day. It mostly focuses on mortality- not too many bad words- yay! As always, pleaaase review, I will give you hugs if you do.**

The road stretched on endlessly before them yet again, as the brothers drove past more cornfields and red-roofed barns. The sky foreshadowed the ominous weather to come, as the dark clouds gathered above and shut out the sun. Below those telltale weather signs traveled a car, whose two occupants were thoroughly exhausted, both mentally and physically.

They had taken a few days off after the Chicago incident, and discussed a few of their major issues. Or, Sam had discussed and Dean shifted uncomfortably on whatever surface he was currently resting on.

Other scenario—Sam asked Dean about _his _feelings while Dean vehemently denied being in possession of any.

_Dean never really did like words, _Sam reflected, leaning his head against the window of his brother's car.

Unbeknownst to Sam, Dean had been trying to call their father for days now. When Sam was in the shower, or out getting food, Dean would hastily pick up his phone and, glancing around like a secret agent, thumb through his list of contacts until he came to "Dad". Pressing down on the call button, Dean would lift the phone to his ear and hope against all hope that John would pick up.

Dean called fourteen times. He didn't leave a single message.

Sam looked out the window, his forehead cooling against the window's glass. _Introspective Dean is different from Regular Dean, _he mused thoughtfully, studying his big brother in a reflection off the window. Dean had been unnaturally silent in the car. Usually he had at least some kind of snide comment to make about the rural areas they passed through, but today—nothing. _He hasn't even put a tape in_, Sam thought with a shock. _Should I take his temperature?_

Sam looked over at Dean, trying not to look too concerned. His older brother's brow was furrowed, and he was concentrating so hard on the road that Sam thought his eyeballs would pop out of his head.

"Dean?"

"Eh?" Dean started, the wheel swerving to the side. He overcorrected, and for a second Sam's heart beat in his stomach. Dean regained control quite ungracefully, looking more than a little ruffled as he glanced over at Sam.

"Dude, are you TRYING to give me a heart attack?"

Sam just looked at him.

"Oh, whoops. I guess I've already had one of those, huh?" Dean cracked, trying to lighten the funeral-service type of mood that was currently festering in the car. In contrast, Dean felt a thundercloud brewing over his brother's head and sighed.

"Sam, I'm seriously all talked out,"

"I thought we were gonna die, Dean"

Yet again, Dean shifted his gaze from the road to a very depressed-looking Sam.

"Did I scare you that bad? I'm sure my driving's been worse,"

"No. I thought we would die, you know. In Chicago."

_Well, this is new,_ Dean thought. All Sam had wanted to talk about before was Dad. And Mom. And Meg. Dean didn't think the question of mortality would come up, at least not when they'd faced it so many times before.

_I hoped it wouldn't come up_.

"Whaddya mean, Sammy?" Dean asked, with a tone in his voice akin to pleading. He halfheartedly resigned himself to another conversation of Sam blaming himself for all things gone awry, and Dean playing the part of reassurance, stating _No Sam, you couldn't have done anything._

"I mean, we almost die like every week," Dean continued, trying fruitlessly to brush off the quickly approaching "moment". He hazarded a look at Sam, who was looking everywhere but at Dean.

"Sam? Come on, kiddo, say something,"

"This time we almost really died." It burst out of Sam's mouth, almost before he realized he had released the thought from his brain.

Dean was silent, trying not to look worried.

"Sam, we've been through shapeshifters, reapers, Bloody Mary…"

"Yeah, but we didn't have _the entire family_ with us then!"

Quick as a lightbulb, Dean realized what Sam was talking about. _The entire goddamn family. Dad, me, Sammy. Our tiny fractured family…of course._

"You were freaked because you don't know what would have happened if we had all died there." It wasn't a question coming from Dean, more like an indirect statement.

Sam nodded in assent, and a grimace crossed Dean's chiseled features. He rubbed a hand over his face, wincing when he scraped the barely-healed cuts on his cheek.

"I thought about it too," Dean admitted reluctantly. He knew the conversation he was encouraging, but he also knew that Sam needed reassurance. He focused on the landscape flying by as they raced down the road. "I mean, what if…how could…I don't know. How are we supposed to find the thing that killed Mom if we're all dead?" Dean hadn't meant for the last part to be said out loud. "I mean, I was just thinking," he added on for good measure.

But he had been thinking about it quite a bit. _If we had died, justice would have never been served. That monster would have kept on killing, and people would be dying; and no one would ever know the truth. We would never know…_

"Slow down," Sam said, softly but determinedly. Dean automatically eased his foot off the gas pedal as he looked at the speedometer.

_Pushing 100_.

He hadn't even noticed.

"Why do you think we didn't die?" Sam asked thoughtfully. Dean sighed inwardly; he hated Sam's philosophical side because somehow, they both ended up in a deep, meaningful dialogue at the end.

"I don't know, Sammy,"

Dean squirmed awkwardly under the heat of Sam's gaze from the passenger seat. He knew that Sam wouldn't stop until he heard what was really on Dean's mind.

_He's annoying like that,_ Dean thought to himself, for some reason feeling warm, mushy affection towards his brother.

"I think you saved our asses back there with the light thing. That was a good idea. I don't know if I would have come up with that," Dean admitted gruffly.

_I'm proud of you, kid, _is what he was trying to say.

_I'm proud of you, Sammy._ The five words Dean used to lavish on his younger brother.

"Thanks," Sam replied, surprised. They settled into a thoughtful silence as a soft rain began to fall. The car hit a bump, and both boys were jostled in their seats.

"I don't think this is something we're supposed to think about too much," Dean said, glancing in the rearview mirror at a red car trying to pass the Impala.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I have no idea,"

"Okay…"

"Just—never mind."

"No, say it,"

"I think there's something we have to do," The words burst out of Dean like water in an overflowing sink; he couldn't stop them once they were out. He regretted his words the instant he felt his brother's quizzical gaze upon him once again.

"Come again?"

"I mean…I'm not too good with—I just; oh, never mind…"

"Dean! The 'never mind' shit gets old the second time in a row!"

"No, Sam! I'm just trying to figure out a way to say this without sounding like a dumbass,"

"It's okay, you can say whatever it is," Sam said soothingly, trying to pacify his irked-looking sibling.

Dean was strangely reassured by that statement.

"I just think that maybe the reason we aren't six feet under yet is because there's a greater purpose out there for us, or some shit like that," Dean mumbled incoherently. He clenched the steering wheel tighter, loathing words and talking and younger brothers and the feeling of embarrassment he was being bombarded with for actually saying what was on his mind—for once.

Sam was silent, contemplating.

"So, is this like our destiny?"

Dean shrugged a one-shoulder shrug. "I don't know. It's just that, I don't believe in coincidences. And we've had once close shave too many for there not to be a reason behind it,"

"So what'll happen once our destiny is fulfilled? I mean, if it _is _our destiny,"

Dean snorted at the way his brother phrased the sentence.

"I dunno. We go poof? I guess we'll have to wait and see,"

"I hate waiting, dude,"

"No, you don't, Sammy. I'm the impatient one, remember?"

"It's Sam," the youngest Winchester snarked at his now-grinning older brother. Sam tried to hide the grin creeping onto his lips, and Dean smiled a genuine smile as the rain continued to drizzle onto the windshield.

Dean turned the wipers up full blast. _Somewhere out there, _he thought, _is a murdering son-of-a-bitch that, maybe, I'm fated to kill. Yet here I am, sitting in my car with my brother._

_We're scratched, but we're still alive, _Sam marveled, running his hand through his messy hair. _And the family's still safe—for now_.

Both brothers made a vow to themselves. Their promises were private but conjoined. They wouldn't give up until they killed that thing—they couldn't give up. It was their fate. They had to fulfill their destiny to seek vengeance on the one that killed the women in their lives. The women they loved, the women they could have known better, if they had been given the chance.

And they knew there would be many more near-misses. But they also knew that they wouldn't let themselves get hurt. Not until their destiny was fulfilled.

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